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didn’t answer for half a lap, the director saw he had misspoken.
    “I don’t mean to be light about it, Jack. Doreen was saying the other day, how much—”
    “There’s still some stuff to do at Quantico. We want to streamline VICAP on the Web so any cop can use it, you saw it in the budget.”
    “Did you ever want to be director, Jack?”
    “I never thought it was my kind of job.”
    “It’s not, Jack. You’re not a political guy. You could never have been director. You could never have been an Eisenhower, Jack, or an Omar Bradley.” He motioned for Crawford to stop, and they stood wheezing beside the track. “You could have been a Patton, though, Jack. You can lead ’em through hell and make ’em love you. It’s a gift that I don’t have. I have to drive them.” Tunberrytook a quick look around him, picked up his towel off a bench and draped it around his shoulders like the vestment of a hanging judge. His eyes were bright.
    Some people have to tap their anger to be tough, Crawford reflected as he watched Tunberry’s mouth move.
    “In the matter of the late Mrs. Drumgo with her MAC 10 and her meth lab, shot to death while holding her baby: Judiciary Oversight wants a meat sacrifice. Fresh, bleating meat. And so do the media. DEA has to throw them some meat. ATF has to throw them some meat. And we have to throw them some. But in our case, they just might be satisfied with poultry. Krendler thinks we can give them Clarice Starling and they’ll leave us alone. I agree with him. ATF and DEA take the rap for planning the raid. Starling pulled the trigger.”
    “On a cop killer who shot her first.”
    “It’s the pictures, Jack. You don’t get it, do you? The public didn’t see Evelda Drumgo shoot John Brigham. They didn’t see Evelda shoot at Starling first. You don’t see it if you don’t know what you’re looking at. Two hundred million people, a tenth of whom vote, saw Evelda Drumgo sitting in the road in a protective posture over her baby, with her brains blown out. Don’t say it, Jack—I know you thought for a while Starling would be your protégée. But she’s got a smart mouth, Jack, and she got off to the wrong start with certain people—”
    “Krendler is a pissant.”
    “Listen to me and don’t say anything until I finish. Starling’s career was flat-lining anyway. She’ll get an administrative discharge without prejudice, the paperwork won’t look any worse than a time-and-attendance rap— she’ll be able to get a job. Jack, you’ve done a great thingin the FBI, the Behavioral Science. A lot of people think if you’d pushed your own interests a little better you’d be a lot more than a section chief, that you deserve a lot more. I’ll be the first one to say it. Jack, you’re going to retire a deputy director. You have that from me.”
    “You mean if I stay out of this?”
    “In the normal course of events, Jack. With peace all over the kingdom, that’s what will happen. Jack, look at me.”
    “Yes, Director Tunberry?”
    “I’m not asking you, I’m giving you a direct order. Stay out of this. Don’t throw it away, Jack. Sometimes you’ve just got to turn your face away. I’ve done it. Listen, I know it’s hard, believe me I know how you feel.”
    “How I feel? I feel like I need a shower,” Crawford said.

CHAPTER
5
    S TARLING WAS an efficient housekeeper, but not a meticulous one. Her side of the duplex was clean and she could find everything, but stuff tended to pile up—clean unsorted laundry, more magazines than places to put them. She was a world-class last-minute ironer and she didn’t need to primp, so she got by.
    When she wanted order, she went through the shared kitchen to Ardelia Mapp’s side of the duplex. If Ardelia was there, she had the benefit of her counsel, which was always useful, though sometimes closer to the bone than she might wish. If Ardelia was not there, it was understood that Starling could sit in the absolute order of